Page 25 of Want It All
‘Uh-huh,’ he said wryly. ‘Sounds like it.’
‘Why are you awake?’
He took a moment to answer. ‘I don’t sleep well,’ he said at last. ‘I haven’t for a long time.’
My breath hitched. ‘What helps?’
‘Drugs,’ he answered bluntly. ‘I’ve tried everything. Meditation, CBT, yoga, more exercise, changing my diet, changing my bedroom, music, different pillows, cutting out screens, cutting out caffeine, chamomile tea, melatonin … If you have any other suggestions, I’m all ears.’
‘That sounds really hard, alpha,’ I said quietly.
I heard him swallow. ‘It’s okay, omega,’ he answered roughly. ‘I’m used to it now.’
I wanted to askwhyhe couldn’t sleep so badly that my throat went tight, but I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t know much about feral alphas, but everything I’d heard – the blackouts, the loss of control – was contrary to the man who walked me to breakfast, who’d brought me food, who’d stepped between me and trouble then left a posy of blossoms outside my door. What I knew of Byron Griffiths was all gentle words and considerate actions, and I thought of the way I’d seen him standing at the literature mixer, his arms tight to his sides and his head bent as he tried to make himself smaller.
‘What do you do instead of sleeping?’ I found myself asking.
There was another silence, as if he was surprised. ‘I read,’ he answered. ‘Scour the internet for cute animal videos. If it’s particularly bad, I’ll work out. Sometimes –’ he broke off, and I heard him inhale. ‘Sometimes, my dad will be awake, too. Sometimes we’ll talk or go for a walk.’
‘It must be nice to be so close to your parents.’
He laughed; the sound was pained. ‘I love them a lot. And I’m all they have.’
It sounded like there was more to it, but again, I couldn’t bring myself to pry. We’d only been on the phone for five minutes, andI already knew more about him than I had that afternoon. ‘You can call me,’ I blurted.
‘What?’
‘You can call me. When you can’t sleep.’
‘Rose. I’m not interruptingyoursleep just because I’m not getting any.’
‘You can,’ I insisted. ‘This is … This is nice.’
‘It is nice,’ he said, after a moment.
‘See? You can message me, and if I’m awake, I’ll call you.’
‘Hmm,’ he said, which I took to meanI will absolutely not be doing that.
‘Try it tomorrow and see if you like it.’ I couldn’t stifle my yawn, and he made an exasperated noise.
‘Go to sleep,’ he growled; the sound sent tingles to my fingers and toes.
‘Whatever you say, alpha,’ I returned, letting a hint of purr into my voice, and ended the call.
Another message came a moment later.
You’re an absolute menace, you know that?
I went back to sleep smiling.
The next morning, we received an email saying class was cancelled; Heathcote had some kind of virus. He’d left a message on the online classroom, reminding us to submit our first assessment.
I’d already done it. I’d thought it would be a relief, but nerves were still gnawing at my stomach.
‘Wonder if he’ll still be marking?’ Sebastian said, shoving a forkful of pancakes in his mouth.
‘There are rules around when we get feedback,’ Byron answered, stirring his coffee. ‘Because the next assessment is due in two weeks, we need feedback for this one within seven days. Mum said Heathcote has the proper flu and will be out too long to make the deadline. They’ve already organised two other markers.’
